


12 Days of Christmas

by AmmoMck



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: 12 Days of Christmas, Armin is a lowkey genius, Bisexual Jean Kirstein, Chatting & Messaging, Cheesy, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, F/M, French-Speaking Jean Kirstein, Friends to Lovers, Gay Marco Bott, M/M, Marco is Italian, Marco is a dork, Pining, Presents, except its totally yes homo, jean 'no homo' kirstein, jean is a sap, jean is punk, just cute holiday fluff, marco has a sassy little sister, not too much though, reiner and jean are bros, secret admirers, side of reibert - Freeform, slight angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-14 02:47:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12998163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmmoMck/pseuds/AmmoMck
Summary: "Marco could honestly say that of all the things he expected to see when he opened his door at the loud knocking that echoed through his house on an early Wednesday morning was not a Bouquet of 12 Blue Dahlias accompanied by a singular envelope addressed to Mr Marco Bodt."Marco finds himself with a secret admirer as Christmas crawls closer. But who is it? And can he let go of his crush on his best friend Jean for this secret admirer?





	1. Day 1: A Dozen Blue Dahlias

**Wednesday December 13th 2017**

Marco could honestly say that of all the things he expected to see when he opened his door at the loud knocking that echoed through his house on an early Wednesday morning was not a Bouquet of 12 Blue Dahlias accompanied by a singular envelope addressed to Mr Marco Bodt. He frowned at the bouquet for a full minute in confusion, eyebrows knit together and eyes squinting in poorly disguised suspicion. The electric blue of the flowers contrasted so hard against the chipping white paint on his front porch that Marco had to blink from the intensity of his glare.

He sighed, long and despairing, until it felt as though no more breath was left in his body. It was a strange thing, he noted, being surprised with flowers. It was even stranger when one was surprised by flowers when one did not have a partner. Regardless, he picked up the bouquet – and the envelope – and trudged back into the kitchen with it, frown still intact.

“What have you got there, _tesoro_?” his mother questioned as Marco placed the bouquet on the table before sitting to eat the breakfast she had made him. Her eyes shifted from the freckled face of her son to the royal blue flowers lying in front of him. Marina Bodt was the female version of Marco. Lightly tanned skin, dusted all over with freckles, a wide dimpled smile and dark brown, lightly curled hair that framed her chocolate brown eyes. She was small though, somehow at least a foot smaller than Marco. Marco’s dad, Alessandro, always joked that she hadn’t grown since middle school – swiftly earning himself a frequent elbow to the ribs and a scowl that wasn’t quite real.

Marco shrugged, “Dunno, they came with an envelope addressed to me though...” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly as his mother let out a poorly concealed squeal at the prospect of her son getting any kind of romantic attention.

“Mooom,” Marco moaned at her, mouth now full of toast.

She simply gave him a grin, “Don’t ‘mom’ me, now tell me; what does the note say?” Marco rolled his eyes at his mother’s grin, taking another bite of his food. She just tutted at him fondly and straightened up the button up he was wearing, tucked into his slacks.

“I ‘unno” he said it with a shrug, as casually as he could make himself sound. He didn’t want to admit to his own curiousity surrounding the bright flowers. Who had sent it? Why? Was it a romantic thing or was it just a prank? God, he hoped it wasn’t a prank. It seemed like something the meaner kids at school would do – but Marco had been ‘under the protection’ of Reiner and Bertholdt since he’d come out two years ago, the two being influential figures in both of their respective sports and boyfriends since – well Marco couldn’t even remember a time when they _weren’t_ dating.

If that wasn’t enough, Marco’s best friend, Jean, was fiercely protective of him to the point that nobody except their close knit group of friends dared to approach him whilst Jean was there. And Jean was practically always there. Not that Marco resented that, he loved that Jean was so protective of him. It was nice to have a friend who cared.

Yes...that’s what Marco thought of him..he was a good **friend**.

Alright, maybe Marco had a crush on him, but Jean was straight as a line and Marco’s best friend and video game partner. He couldn’t very well act on the crush, so Jean was a friend and nothing else.

Marina snapped her fingers in her son’s face, pulling him out of his thoughts. His head flew around to look at her and she stared back at him, her gaze expectant, “what...?”

“Are you going to open the envelope or not?” She questioned, eyebrows raised.

Marco hurried to pick up said envelope, “Oh, right yeah, of course.”

He fumbled with it, nervous as hell, although he wasn’t at all sure exactly why? Nothing bad was going to happen if he opened an envelope. Finger’s still trembling, he lifted the tab of the envelope and pulled out the contents carefully. A small rectangular card, slightly bigger than a business card. A border of tinsel and holly ran around the trim of the card. Written in the centre, in a neat, italic script was a simple message:

**On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me...**

**Flowers as bright as your smile.**

Marco’s eyes widened. ‘True love’ it said. So somebody...loved him? It seemed laughable to him, he felt like brushing it off as a prank. However, something – some little voice in the back of his mind – told him not to discredit it. Whoever it was had to genuinely notice the fact he had a nice smile. Even that sounded stupid to Marco; he had an awkward smile that took up his whole face. It made him look like a three year old.

“Soooo…” Marina prompted him, leaning forward in excitement. Wordlessly, he passed the note on to his mother and reached for his toast again. He was trying to come across as casual, even as he felt the heat rise up on his face.  
  
“What’s with the flowers?” Asked his younger sister, Sofia, questioned as walked in to breakfast, adorning the schools signature green and white cheerleading uniform. She had the same dirty blonde hair as her father, a small mouth with thick lips that was always pushed up in a one-sided smirk and, of course, the signature Bodt freckles (Marco’s grandmother often joked that his dad had only married his mother because she had freckles so prominent they would guarantee that all their kids would have freckles too). She prodded at one of the buds, a frown affixed to her face as if it were one of the strangest things she’d ever seen, “Did I forgot yours and dad’s anniversary again?”

Marina waved off the fear on her daughter’s face, “They’re your brother’s, _cara_ , a secret admirer left them on the doorstep.” Marco almost rolled his eyes at the sheer excitement in her voice. Almost. She passed the little note to his sister, ignoring Marco’s little whine of protest.

“Hm,” Sofia murmured, surveying the note with her signature, “looks like someone’s got a major hard on for you, bro.”

“Sofia!” The screech came from both Marco and Marina, both looking embarrassed and scandalised at the choice of words coming from the younger teen.

“Mummy, what’s a hard on?”

The three Bodts at the kitchen table froze.

They turned, at a truly comical pace, to see the three younger Bodt children, Daniel, Camilla and Marta, standing in the doorway. Marta’s eyes were wide and innocent, looking from Marco to Sofia to Marina in curiosity, the five-year-old obviously waiting for an answer.

The twins stood behind her were trying hard to hold in laughter at the scandalised faces of the older three in the room. “Yes ‘mummy’,” Daniel mocked with a grin, “what’s a hard on?” Marco chuckled at that, at age twelve the twins were already funnier than him.

Marina sighed, “nothing for you to concern yourselves with.” She said it with a tone of such finality that the subject was dropped almost immediately and the three other kids sat at the table to eat their own breakfasts. “And _you_ , Sofia, should certainly not be concerning yourself with them.”

“Mom!” Sofia whined through a bite of eggs.

“You’re sixteen,”

“Seventeen in a month.” Sofia interjected.

“You don’t need to be thinking about things like that.”

“Things like what?”

Marta’s question went ignored, “How comes you’re not telling Marco not to concern himself with them either? He’s the one with the secret admirer!”

“Marco is eighteen, he can do what he wants.”

Marco choked on the toast he was eating, “jeez, I did not expect that to come out of your mouth.”

“I’m just saying if you-“

Marco gave an embarrassed yelp, cutting his mother off, “We’re not having this conversation, mom.” He finished up his last bite of breakfast hurriedly, blush firmly back on his cheeks. “And I’m gonna be late for school.” He moved to leave the room only to be caught on the arm by his sister at the last possible second.

“You promised me a ride, dummy, and don’t forget this.” She shoved the note from his secret admirer into his hands as she shovelled in her last bite, “maybe your friends know something about it.”

Marco just sighed at her, releasing himself from her hold. Still, he waited in the doorway for her to take her last bite and followed her out of the door. She had a point though.

 

* * *

 

The entire ride to school, Marco didn’t speak. Sofia chattered away happily beside him, apparently unaware of the inner turmoil bubbling within Marco’s body, explaining her latest cheer routine, how Bonnie Aitkens got put to the bottom of the pyramid for cheating on her math test and offhandedly commenting on the attractiveness of Leighton Pickett’s ass (even though – last Marco checked – Sofia had a massive and surprising crush on Bertolt, despite him being in a relationship with Reiner.)

Marco just nodded along with his sister’s nonsensical babble, not having a clue who any of the sophomores she spoke about even were – or if they were even sophomores in the first place, Sofia was extremely popular amongst the juniors too. He concentrated on the road, willing his mind not to think back to that damned note and all of the things it could mean for him.

_Focus Marco. Think about what’s right in front of you._

_Old man walking dog._

_Number plate in front: 532 WMB._

_One Cyclist in front._

_No. Make that two._

_Need to turn left._

_Indicate._

_New number plate in front: 027 WUH._

**_On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me..._ **

**_Flowers as bright as your smile._ **

_For Fuck’s sake, Marco._

Marco bit back a growl of frustration as the note slipped back into the forefront of his mind. What was he going to do, exactly? He didn’t even know who the guy was, let alone whether he liked this attention he was given.

Marco shook his head absently. He didn’t even know if this attention was actually going to be an ongoing thing. Maybe it was just a prank and he’d never hear of it ever again. He didn’t think – at this point – he’d mind at all if that was the case. He was already far too riled up over nothing – imagine if into turned into…something. Marco didn’t really know what.

“Marco are you even listening?”

At Sofia’s betrayed whine, Marco snapped is head round to look at her briefly, taking in her exaggerated pout, before turning back to the road ahead. Almost at school. “…What?”

“God, you’re annoying,” Sofia rolled her eyes with a huff, arms crossed as she spoke, “I said: ‘what do you think your friends will say?’”

Marco blinked at her.

With a sigh, Sofia explained further, “about the note? From your secret admirer?” Another blink. “God, you really haven’t been listening.”

“Oh,” Marco said finally as they pulled into the school parking lot, “Probably just that its some joke, I guess?” He only murmured it, embarrassed that his sister was even addressing the note that he was determined to convince himself was unimportant.

Sofia frowned as her brother distractedly parked his truck, “you really think its just some joke?” She tried not to, really, she did, but she couldn’t help but let concern lace her voice at the obvious lapse in her brother’s self-confidence. He’d struggled with it for years, everybody knew it but nobody mentioned it.

“Well, yeah, it seems like something that would be joke, doesn’t it?” Sofia just shrugged, not sure what to say.

“Oh, look,” Marco continued over the awkward silence, “Bertolt’s on his way over.”

Sofia’s eyes widened, hands immediately moving up to her ponytail, self consciously pulling it tight. “Oh God,” she wailed, “I was so focused on you, I forgot that I must look like trash.”

Marco rolled his eyes half-heartedly, just glad for the attention to be away from him as Bertolt greeted them both.

The taller boy looked just as uncomfortable as ever to see Marco’s little sister. Pulling on his usual thin sweater subconsciously. Marco supposed he could see why Sofia had a crush on him, and why Reiner was dating him. Bertolt had a handsome face, even if it more often than not sported a grave expression of nervousness, and his body was just right, not quite muscular but still well built. His height would have probably looked strange on anyone else, but Marco found that it rather suited Bertolt.

Looking at Bertolt just made Marco wonder what the secret admirer looked like. Was he handsome too? Or was it one of those people that were decidedly not handsome but stil had a certain attractiveness to them. Like Jean, Marco mused, most people likened him to having the face of a horse, but Marco felt that his piercing amber eyes and two-toned undercut made the other boy exude a certain aura that made him irresistible. That’s it Marco, stop thinking about your secret admirer and focus on your unattainable long-time crush.

Marco shook the thought of both men out of his head and focused on his companions. Bertolt looked absolutely aghast at the prospect of being stuck in conversation with Sofia – not that he was rude, it was more like Sofia didn’t respect boundaries – and Marco decided to have pity on him, clutching on to his friend’s arm and beginning to tug him away from Sofia’s starry-eyed gaze. “Come on, Bertolt, lets get you reunited with your boyfriend,” he emphasised the last word, punctuating it with a glare to his sister, who simply rolled her eyes, straightening out her cheer skirt as she turned away.

 

* * *

 

“What the fuck are you talking about, ‘secret admirer’?” Reiner snorted at Marco’s question as his group of friends settled onto their usual table in the corner of the cafeteria for lunch. The twelve friends had sat there together since freshman year, all coming from the same middle school – and therefore already a close-knit group of friends.

Marco sighed impatiently at the bulky blonde sat across from him. He had had the note on his mind all day, unable to shake it even the tiniest bit away from his brain. After zoning out for the 20th time that day, Marco resolved that he should probably tell his friends about the bouquet of flowers on his front porch. “I’m talking about someone leaving a bouquet of dahlias on my front porch with this fucking note.” He waved the note around before slamming it down on the table in the midst of the sharp gaze of his shocked friends.

He wasn’t usually this…vocal. He usually just smiled and agreed and laughed because that’s what Marco Bodt does best. However, he was frustrated, he needed to know right then and there if this was some kind of prank so he could get on with his life.

Christa, bless her soul, leaned forward to grab the note. Her big blue eyes seemed to sparkle in delight as she read the note, letting a small smile grace her lips. “Wow, Marco,” she said, using one hand to tuck her blonde her behind her ear, “looks like someone really likes you.”

Her girlfriend, Ymir, a tall brunette with a permanent look of pure sarcasm, took a look at the note over her shoulder and let out a low whistle, “That’s actually kinda sweet freckles, you got a keeper in this one.”

“I wanna see! I wanna see!” Sasha leapt forward in her seat, one hand reaching out to grab the note, the other clutching hold of the bag of chips she’d been eating.

Christa handed it over and thus started a game of ‘pass the note’: Sasha allowed Connie to read it over her shoulder, then passed it across the table to Bert and Reiner, who in turn passed it over to Annie. When Annie was done it was passed to Eren who had Mikasa and Armin read it over either of his shoulders. After each person read it they made an offhanded remark about how it was ‘cute’ or ‘sweet’ (with the exception of Annie, who just sort of grunted her acknowledgement of it and passed it on) but nothing else was said.

Finally, the card was passed to Jean, who seemed to stare at it for a moment without really seeing what it said. He shook his head slowly before flicking his left wrist out to hand it back to Marco without looking at him. “Looks good man, any idea who it is?”

Marco blinked at how casual he sounded. Did he not see the complications that came from not knowing the identity of said ‘secret admirer’? “No,” Marco said slowly, glancing round at all the expectant faces of his friends, “personally I think it’s some kind of prank…”

There was a chorus of protests at the mere thought of this being anything but an act of love. “Come on, Marco, nobody is going to do that to you, man,” Reiner said, earning nods from everyone around him.

“Yeah dude, you’re awesome!” Connie chimed in, “any guy would be lucky to date you,” There was a cough from Sasha, “except me of course, I already have a woman.” Sasha smirked, pulling the bald-headed boy closer to her slightly taller frame. He returned her smirk with his own sheepish grin as Bertolt told Marco he was gorgeous.

The compliments kept coming, with a few ideas of who it might be: Thomas from his business class maybe? Or even Marlowe, the awkward kid with a bowl cut who couldn’t do math equations for shit. The entire school knew Marco was gay, so that ruled any girls off of the list. Marco was only half-listening though, because he knew it was just his friends being nice. No way could any one of the boys they mentioned even look at him that way.

“You alright, dude,” Jean’s hushed voice resonated in his ear, making him shiver slightly as he realised Jean had leaned in terribly close. “You’ve been staring at that note for ages and class starts in, like, a minute.”

Marco’s head snapped up to see that the rest of his friends had all ceased in their encouragement and were instead packing up to leave or already left.

“I’m fine,” Marco muttered back, then, because he couldn’t lie to Jean, he admitted, “It’s just…what if it is a prank?”

Jean pulled his head away from Marco’s ear so he could look him in the eye, “then whoever did it is A) Stupid for not seeing how amazing you really are and B) Dead, because they’re going to have to deal with your 11 best friends. 7 of which, need I remind you, are pretty damn good fighters.” (It was true, of course, Reiner, Jean, Connie and Eren on the football team – and not being averse to a few fleeting fist fights in hallways, Mikasa and Annie were extremely well practised in taekwondo and kick-boxing respectively and Ymir grew up with five rough as hell older brothers and had developed her own form of fighting from wrestling the remote from them).

Marco laughed and shook his head at the thought of the 11 of them defending Marco’s honour. He turned his head to properly return his gaze and smiled.

Jean smiled right back, before a serious gaze fitted back over his face, “Seriously now, I can’t believe for a second that someone did this in cold blood. You know why?”

Marco bit his lip and shook his head. He let his eyes waver to look around the cafeteria: a lot of people had already gone to class, only the cleaning ladies and a couple of stragglers were still there.

“Because if there’s one person on this planet who deserves all this romance shit, it’s Marco Bodt.” Marco’s eyes snapped back to Jean’s, “now stop whining and go figure out who your prince charming is, you freckled asshole.” Jean shook his head, as though dismissing the topic completely from his head, and began to head off to class.

Marco smiled and followed his best friend’s lead, “thanks Jean.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever, man, let’s just get to Math class before Mr. Ackerman shoots us.  
  


* * *

 

  
That night, Marco found it near impossible to sleep. His mind racing with thoughts of his secret admirer and wondering, if they were to continue sending him presents, just what the next one would be. He thought of any clues he could look for, to see who the man was and, most importantly, he thought of Jean and of how none of this secret admirer stuff would mean anything to him at all if he could just have Jean. When he finally did fall asleep, he dreamt of many Prince Charmings; some with mystery faces, others with a two-toned haircut, piercing eyes, and a near-permanent grumpy expression.


	2. Day 2: A Box of Doughnuts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco finds no gift on his doorstep on day 2 and he and Jean have a moment on the walk home.

**Thursday December 14 th 2017**

Marco found no surprise at his front door on Thursday morning, just the usual morning paper that he usually picked up for his mom. He tried to mask his disappointment, he really did, it was just that he really wanted there to be something there. The secret admirer guy made it seem like a continual thing. ‘On the first day of Christmas’ implied there would be a second day of Christmas, right? That’s how I should work, but no, there was nothing there. He had, he supposed, been slightly hoping there would be a second gift to secure himself more of a clue as to who sent the flowers but it seemed the handwriting on the note was his only clue.

The only problem with that: he didn’t recognise it _at all_. It was too fancy to match that of anyone he knew, and it wasn’t like he could just examine the handwriting of everyone at school. He’d spent the entire night examining the note for clue and found nothing. He even looked into the meaning behind the dahlias but had only found the meanings of ‘balance’, ‘strength’ and – probably the most relevant – ‘Commitment to another person’, leaving the suggestion that the person who had sent them wanted a relationship. The idea unnerved Marco although he couldn’t quite tell why. Perhaps just because he didn’t have a fucking clue who this person was.

If there even _was_ a person at all. It seemed more possible than ever to Marco that his secret admirer could have in fact been a part of some prank from one of the school’s homophobic jerks as a way to upset him. Make him believe he had a secret admirer only for nothing at all to come of it after it had been on his mind a whole day? It sounded like a plausible plan to, Marco. In fact, it seemed all the more reasonable due to how dumb it was.

Marco could probably deal with it, he always did, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt if that were the case. Marco would go back to quietly pining after his straight, oblivious best friend and studying hard and helping his parents with his siblings and that would be it, he’d never mention it again. First, though, he had to check that it definitely _wasn’t_ an actual secret admirer.

His friends asked about the gift again at lunch, apparently also believing that there would be a second gift. However, none seemed to be particularly disappointed at the lack of gifts that morning, although Jean’s usual grumpy expression did seem to be replaced with a confused scowl. Only Bertolt and Armin continued inquiring about that first note (the _only_ note, he reminded himself).

“Are you sure there isn’t – I-I don’t know – a clue or s-something? Y’know, on the note?” Bertolt asked, picking at his lunch.

Marco shook his head, “Nothing at all, you can look yourself if you’d like…” He reached into his button up’s pocket and pulled out the note, turning it once in his hand before passing it on to Bertolt’s waiting hand. He knew at least one person was going to ask to look at the note today and so, after staring at the note sat on his writing desk for a solid 5 minutes debating whether or not to take it with him, Marco had snatched it up and tucked it into his breast pocket. 

From the seat next to Marco, Jean let out an amused snort, “Keeping that note close to your heart are we, Marco?”

“Sh-shut up!” Marco grumbled, shoving at his friend’s shoulder and trying to ignore the feeling in his stomach given by his teasing. “It’s just convenient to have it there.”

“Sure,” Jean gave Marco his signature smirk but he was also sucking in his bottom lip piercing, something he only ever usually did in anxiousness. Marco frowned. What did his friend have to be nervous about? Surely, _he_ wasn’t worried about the secret admirer too? Before Marco could dwell on it too much, the two-toned boy continued, “just don’t hurt yourself too hard trying to figure it out who it is, ‘kay? We all know you hurt yourself when you think too much – hell, I can practically see the smoke coming outta your ears already…”

Marco spluttered at that, making Jean chuckle at his expense. The freckled boy frowned again, this time not in confusion but in annoyance. “Yeah, yeah Jean, real funny. You’re hilarious, might as well be a comedian.”

Jean just smirked again.

Marco practically growled.

“You can always look at the handwriting!” Armin interjected, snapping Marco’s attention back to the note. Armin held it out to him, one of his fingers tracing the delicate script as if to prove his point. The hand-writing was fancy, as if written completely by a professional calligrapher, but upon closer inspection, you could see the trembles in the writing. It looked exactly like someone had pushed the pen down to write on the note too hard in their nervousness in writing it.

But it didn’t help Marco in the slightest.

“How is the handwriting supposed to help me out? I know nobody who writes like- like- _that_. It’s so…pretty? Everyone we know has shitty handwriting”

Ah chorus of ‘gee thanks, Marco’ and ‘charming’ and ‘look at your own writing, dork’ echoed around the table and Marco offered them all a sheepish grin for their trouble. Not that he was lying, it was a well-known fact that every single one of his friends couldn’t write for shit, including Christa who most assumed had the handwriting of a Disney princess.

Armin shook his head, ignoring the rest of the table, “that doesn’t mean we can’t figure it out, we just have to start looking at everybody’s handwriting and we’ll know! Right? We all have separate enough classes that we can split the playing field and at least survey all the handwriting of the other seniors.”

“Unless it’s a freshman.” Sasha input unhelpfully.

Connie’s eyes opened comically wide, staring at his girlfriend as if she held the keys to the universe, “holy shit, dudes, what if it’s a freshman?”

“What if-”

“I don’t know coconut head,” Jean cut off Connie and Sasha with a smirk at his nickname for the small blonde, “I’m all for getting Marco laid but that sounds like a lot of work.”

“I-it’s worth a shot, I guess?” Bertolt countered, offering Marco a shy smile that was happily returned. “Right Reiner?” The tall boy turned to his boyfriend, who seemed to be holding a silent conversation with Jean, their eyes locked onto each other. Reiner looked panicked, yet Jean looked calm and collected. If Jean’s previous nervousness hadn’t peaked Marco’s interest, then the exchange between the two blondes definitely had. Jean smirked at Reiner as though he knew something Reiner didn’t and the conversation was dropped.

Reiner’s head turned to Bertolt with a nerve-racked smile, “I think it’d be worth a shot, yeah,” the confirmation from his boyfriend made Bertolt grin and Marco found himself – not for the first time – jealous of their relationship.

 

* * *

 

The rest of the school day went very much the same. Marco’s thoughts were plagued by the image of his mystery man writing out the note cards, eyebrow furrowed in concentration as a slightly shaking hand presses down hard on the paper.

By the time he and Jean began their walk home, Marco had a permanent scowl etched on his face. As much as he didn’t want to let it, the secret admirer had made his way into his thoughts and now Marco was stuck with fantasises of this boy sweeping him off his feet.

He didn’t even know if the secret admirer was even his age. It could be a creepy old man for all he knew.

He and Jean walked side by side in a comfortable companionship, Jean stealing acutely worried glances over to Marco every now and then.

Marco sighed. “Jean, you’re doing it again...”

Jean’s head fell to the floor in semi-shame, a small smile on his lips, “’m just worried.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets with a small shrug.

“Worried?”

“Yeah.”

Marco frowned deeper than before, “why would you be worried?”

“Because you’ve been walking around with a face like a kicked puppy all day! That’s the first time in two years I’ve seen you without a smile, Marco.”

Jean kicked at the ground absently, hands still in pockets, looking very much the part of a moody toddler. Marco surveyed his face carefully, noting the look of disdain on his best friend’s face.

“Is it the secret admirer thing?”

“Uh, sorta, yeah,” Marco grimaced, “I just...don’t like not knowing, you know?”

Jean’s gaze finally turned up to meet Marco’s with a smile. He manoeuvred himself so they were walking with arms flush against each other. Every once in a while, their hands would brush.

It was always something Jean did to comfort Marco, giving him the attention he needed without having to do too much. Now though, Marco felt the blush crawling up his neck at every subtle touch of their hands, the feeling of warmth pooling in his stomach.

“I know, Marco, but if you’re curious that’s good, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Their hands brushed again and this time Marco could have sworn he felt Jean’s hand linger for a moment longer than usual.

“Just...” Jean’s hand started moving again, “if you’re interested enough to be concerned about who he is then he must be doing something right. He must know you pretty well, to know you’d like all this romantic ass shit...yeah?”

“I guess?”

“You know. He’s being romantic and you’re intrigued as fuck don’t pretend to feel any different, Marco.”

Marco scoffed half-heartedly, “whatever you say, Jean.”

“Well that’s what I say.”

“Okay.”

They had reached Marco’s house, standing side by side in front of the white porch steps, the air between them suddenly felt awkward and tense. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second, before Jean flicked his away with a cough. “So, I’ll see you, tomorrow, yeah? Mission Find Your Man will officially start, right?”

“I guess so.” Marco replied with a shy smile. “Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow. Bye Marco!” Jean returned his smile before turning to leave, a bounce added into his step.

Marco walked up the front porch steps and turned as he reached the front door. “Bye Jean!” He hollered at the blonde’s retreating form as he let himself into the house.

“Marco, is that you?” A call from his sister filtered through as he barely took a single step inside the house. “Quick, you need to get in here!”

Marco followed Sofia’s voice, hurrying into the family’s humble living room, made homely with the pale blue and beige theme and made festive with the haphazardly decorated Christmas tree (at five, Marta was still unpractised in the art of good tree decorating) and fairy lights hanging along each wall. On the master couch sat Sofia and, much to Marco’s surprise and slightly unwanted delight, on the coffee table in front of her sat a box from his favourite bakery and another envelope, once again addressed to Mr. Marco Bodt.

Marco’s eyes widened, processing this new development none too well in the jumbled mess of his brain. Another letter. Another gift. He had an honest to God put-thought-into-this secret admirer and he still wasn’t sure how exactly he felt about it.

And there was one person getting in the way of figuring out his feelings about it. Three guesses who.

“Are you going to open it or what? I wanna know what it is!”

Marco glared at his sister, “Shut it, Sofia, I’m thinking.”

“Well think while you unbox, I’m not getting any younger here.” His sister gave a pout, one perfectly manicured hand pushing the box closer to him, strategically.

Marco just sighed in defeat, not uttering any other word to her.

He opened the box first, resolving to see what he had been given first, so as not to have it be ruined by the note. Inside the bakery box sat six of his favourite custard doughnuts. Jean had always used to call them ‘yuckynuts’ when they were little as Marco seemed to be the only one of their then friendship group of he, Jean, Connie and Sasha.

It was, of course, common knowledge to most that if you were ever in need of a favour from Marco Bodt, one of these custard doughnuts would convince him to do whatever.

On each of the doughnuts, however, there was marked a heart in chocolate icing, something Marco had never seen on this particular pastry.

Sofia cooed from next to him, peering over his shoulder, “this kid knows you well, big bro.”

Marco shook his head, “nah, everybody knows these are my favourites, people used to pay me to tutor them with these.”

“Wow, you’re so damn cool.”

“Sofia,” Marco warned and she closed her mouth again. Silently, she instead picked up the note and placed it into his hands.

Hands trembling, he tore at the paper of the envelope and pulled out a note the same size as before, everything like the previous one.

**_On the Second Day of Christmas my true love gave to me…_ **

**_Your favourite doughnut – to brighten your day._ **

Marco smiled despite himself, taking a bite of the closest doughnut, which most definitely did brighten his day.

It wasn’t until later that night that he noticed anything wrong with the note, after assessing it for what was likely to be the thousandth time.

Jolting up from the desk he sat at, he grabbed his phone and brought up his friend’s group chat:

**FreckledJesus:** The handwriting thing wont work guys.

**FreckledJesus:** I got a new note.

**FreckledJesus:** This one had completely different handwriting.

**BertlTurtl:** Really?

**FreckledJesus:** Yeah

**ArminArmout:** Well fuck then okay

**Ymir:** lol armin swore

**ArminArmout:** what did this note say?? Did you get a gift too???

**[FreckledJesus sent an attachment]**

**[FreckledJesus sent an attachment]**

**Ymir:** well dmn he got the fckin doughnuts

**ArminArmout:** Hmm

**ArminArmout:** Everything’s exactly the same

**BertlTurtl:** except the handwriting lol

**BAEner:** u think the guy got sumone else to write the first one to impress u

**FreckledJesus:** Maybe???

**FreckledJesus:** Or the other way round but that doesnt make sense? It’s not as nice.

**ArminArmout:** Maybe he got different people to write each one??

**Goddess:** or theyre just really good at disguising handwriting

**Goddess:** thats a noteable difference isnt it?

**Goddess:** Its a lot rougher this time

**ArminArmout:** I’ll look at it some more tonight, but we should wait for the third note tomorrow

**Ymir:** is nobody gonna talk about the doughnuts???

**PotatoGrl:** DOUGHNUTS????

**Ymir:** of course she comes in for that

**PotatoGrl:** MARRY HIM MARCO.

Marco clicked off his phone with a sigh, it was going to be a long week. Still, he couldn’t help but be enthralled by the prospect of finally finding someone to love him. Of course, Jean was still on his mind but Marco couldn’t help but think that maybe this secret admirer would be good for him, especially when his current crush didn’t even like boys.

His phone pinged again, another message coming through, this time in the form of a text message:

**Jean Kirstein:** saw ur doughnuts go get him freckles

Marco smiled despite himself. Jean may not like boys, but he was always able to make Marco smile.

Even if it was stupid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know this is a day late! The hostel I was staying at had no wi-fi access because it was down for maintenance, but I'm back home now and have a double update for you! One now, one later. This ones a bi
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> Also: Just incase you get confused about chat names, here's a list of who's who
> 
> Marco - FreckledJesus  
> Jean - horseface(chat)  
> Reiner - BAEner  
> Bertolt - BertlTurtl  
> Armin - ArminArmout  
> Eren - jaegermeister  
> Mikasa - ErensMom  
> Christa - Goddess  
> Ymir - Ymir  
> Annie - ruok?  
> Sasha - PotatoGrl  
> Connie - Cueball


	3. Day 3: Giant Panda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's admirer leaves a flimsy clue, Reiner starts acting weird, and Marco has an interesting last English class before Christmas break.

**Friday December 15 th 2017**

Friday morning found Marco lying in bed debating whether or not to even get up. It was the last day of school before Christmas vacation and, honestly, Marco was more than a little bit ready to give up on anything school related until the New Year. He’d had a restless night’s sleep mind dwelling on the little details of the Admirer’s notes and thinking about how significant the gifts really were. So far, he’d only received flowers and doughnuts – two things every knew he loved and had no degree of…originality to them, Marco supposed.

So, the presents weren’t really all that thoughtful, perhaps, did that make Marco any less curious about the identity of the man who was apparently in love with him? Nope, no, definitely not. Marco was about ready to pull his hair out because of this small event in his life. Things like this just didn’t _happen_ to him, nobody wanted to wine and dine him, whip him up with romance and take him riding off into the sunset.

He was slightly on the chubby side, tall ad awkward. He was smarter than what was worth it and couldn’t be athletic if his life depended o it. Heck, if Jean hadn’t insisted on burning his old collection of bowties, he would still be picking one out everyday to match his button up shirt and sweater vest. His sense of fashion had only slightly improved with Jean’s influence and even then, he was still unattractive to most, if not all, men.

Marco just wasn’t that guy, and he’d grown to accept that.

Except now he had to look at himself as being the type to grab attention, to be loved, and it wasn’t something that was easy for him. The idea of it being a prank still swirled in his head, he was unable to fully admit to himself that, no, people probably weren’t sending him gifts and notes as part of some kind of elaborate prank.

He checked his phone for the time, estimating around 20 minutes before he had to leave. He checked his messages. The group chat had still carried on after Marco had gone to sleep last night, all seeming to praise the idea of getting the doughnuts, deciding the boy knew Marco well.

But everyone knew that about Marco, it wasn’t anything special. Marco had thought t, and Jean had texted it. Both boys on the same page about the thought that had gone into the gifts. It was like the admirer was being to careful not to show his identity and Marco didn’t like it.

Sending him things everybody knew about him, left Marco no room to be able to cut down the amount of people I the school it could be. (This is – of course – assuming it was somebody he went to school with). Marco let out a huff, letting himself know how fed up he was with having to guess the identity. He supposed he was already to attached, impatient to know who it is so he could decide to let them in.

A knock at the front door had Marco sapping into and upright position in his bed.

It could be him.

He ran down the stairs to the front door in record timing, not even stopping to pull on more clothes than the t-shirt and boxers he slept in. He threw the door open, and immediately gaped at what he stood right in front of him.

It was huge. No other way to describe it, just huge. It took up half of the porch and was easily taller than Marco himself. Probably weighed more than him too. Thick soft fur covered it, with two beaded eyes poking out of black circle around its eyes. It was a giant stuffed panda bear, the kind you win at an over-priced, probably rigged carnival game, and in its lap, was another small envelope addressed to Marco.

Marco glanced round the neighbourhood. Nobody was outside to have seen it. Hastily, he hauled it into the kitchen where his mother and younger siblings sat, wide-eyed at Marco hauling the large creature into the room. Marta squealed as he placed it on the floor and leapt straight into it, cuddling into the soft, silky smooth fur.

“I got another one,” Marco explained breathlessly, running a hand through his bedhead hair. “kinda weird, huh?” He added on hastily, as if trying to convince himself it wasn’t as romantic as he was feeling it to be.

Marina shook her head softly, “No, _Tesoro_ , it’s lovely. I’m more worried that you need to be at school very soon and you’re still in your underwear.” The twins giggled as Marina rose an eyebrow at her eldest son, who had the decency to blush in modesty at his unruly state. “Did you read the note?”

“Not yet,” Marco muttered, discretely attempting to cover himself with his arms in embarrassment. Marina rose one sly hand while her son was distracted and plucked up the note from his hands that were now too busy covering him to protest. “Mom!” He shouted as she held the note out of his reach with a smirk.

“You can read it when you’re dressed, _bambino_ , but you have to be ready to go.”

Marco growled, before running up the stairs to grab the first clothes he could find and shove them on, hastily running a hand through his now irredeemable hair as he observed himself in the mirror realising what he had picked out. He was wearing one of the band shirts he had bought from one of the many gigs Jean had dragged him to when he’d had nobody else to go with and had even squeezed himself into a pair of Jeans Jean had bought for him for his last birthday. He’d only worn them twice since.

It was a far cry from his usual put together look and Marco couldn’t help but wonder if his secret admirer would still be attracted to him like this. Marco thought he looked decent enough, at least, and with one last nod to his reflection, he charged back down stairs.

“Record timing,” his mother commented handing him back the note, only for him to immediately tear it open. “What does it say?”

Marco smiled to himself before reading out loud:

“ ** _On the Third Day of Christmas my true love gave to me…_**

**_A stuffed Panda won from a carnival…just like you’ve always wanted._** ”

Yes, Marco had always wanted to be in the kind of relationship where someone would try their best to win them an object of his choosing (most definitely a stuffed animal) but he’d never imagined getting one quite so _big_.

The secret admirer was stepping up their game ever so slightly, and with that they’d unveiled a clue.

-Line Break-

“So. The guy gave you the same not as usual, with yet _another_ change in handwriting _and_ he got you the shitty carnival toy you wanted?” Ymir summed it up as Marco finished telling the gang about his morning over lunch.

Bertolt smiled warmly at Marco, “that’s really romantic, him remembering that?”

“Remembering what?”

“Yeah, what?”

“What was remembered?”

“Whom remembered whateth?”

Marco cut off Connie and Sasha’s strange idea of banter with a smile and an explanation. “Last year, I mentioned in a taster English lecture with Miss Ral that I would find it romantic if someone won me a cute stuffed animal at a carnival, bonus points if they got my favourite kind of bear – a panda.”

“How in the hell does that come up in a lecture?”

Annie went ignored as Armin let out a whoop. “We have a clue?”

“We have a clue.” Marco confirmed with a small smile. “Not a big clue but a clue nonetheless.”

Jean rose an eyebrow at his freckled pal, “what kinda clue?” His sceptical tone wasn’t lost on Marco who shot him down quick with a glare.

“Only half the year heard me say that, it cuts the year down by half.”

Reiner and Jean exchanged a glance then looked back to him again. Jean shook his head, “Well shit congrats freckles.”

“Down by half,” Reiner chuckled nervously, “Holy crap.”

“You okay there, Reiner?” Armin asked curiously, “anything to share?” Heads snapped to the beefy boy, unable to excuse the strange reaction from the usually mellow boy.

“Hah, no…why would I?” another nervous chuckle. A table full of incredulous stares. “W-well, it’s just…half the year?”

“Yeah,” Marco confirmed, waiting for the point.

Reiner rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “Well, couldn’t they have easily spread something like that to the other half of the year? Especially if somebody’s asking ‘bout you?”

Marco opened his mouth to retort, but no sound escaped his lips. As much as he hated to admit it, the well-built boy across from him had a point. While it wasn’t a point of gossip, at the very least it was good information for somebody who needed it, and anybody could have helped out the admirer with this gift. His mouth clamped shut.

“Shut it, Reiner,” Jean surprised Marco by coming to his defence. “It was quite a memorable quote from Freckles, here, but not quite memorable enough that anyone who didn’t care about Marco would have remembered it even 2 minutes later. If the admirer knows something about it, he was in that room.”

Marco blushed, “You think so, Jean?”

“I know so.” Jean said with a finality that shut everyone who had been about to speak up.

Except Eren of course.

“Well well, look at Prince Jean coming to Marco’s rescue! If you weren’t so adamant you were straight, man, I’d bet _you_ were the secret admirer.”

Jean’s eyes widened as Marco let out a booming augh at the sentiment. Honestly, imagine he, Marco Bodt, were lucky enough to have unrequited love be _requited_ after all. He’d never be that lucky, it was damn laughable enough to even think. “jean liking me, yeah right, Eren, we’re just friends.”

“Yeah,” Jean said quickly afterwards, although hurt was evident in his eyes, “Just friends.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Ymir let out suddenly, diverting attention away from the two boys. “Now that that’s sorted, can we _please_ talk about Marco’s sudden change in style? Marco, do you even know who that band is?” Okay attention was back to him and his face was red as a tomato.

He could’ve sworn he heard Jean mutter something about looking good in Jeans but Marco was sure he imagined it.

-Line Break-

Classes felt quick after lunch, and soon Marco found himself sat in the back of his English class next to Jean taking enthusiastic notes as he absorbed every little thing Petra – he should really call her Miss Ral before people noticed they were actually good friends – was explaining up front.

He almost lasted the entire lesson with complete attention on her too, and would have if it weren’t for Jean. The boy had been quiet since lunch and Marco had a sneaking suspicion – and hope – that it had something to do with his comment on their friendship.

He tried getting Jean’s attention over their shared desk, but the blonde boys eyes were trained on Petra, refusing to meet Marco’s gaze. He ignored Marco’s little whispers and pokes, but he didn’t even so much as taken a note, so Marco knew he wasn’t listened because Petra had just released some important exam material and Jean hadn’t furiously scrawled it down amidst the doodles that usually adorned is notebook’s pages.

Marco gulped visibly then made a decision.

He reached over and wrote on Jean’s notebook

_Hi_

Jean jolted at Marco’s sudden movement and tried hard not to look down at the page. Marco tried again.

_Can we talk?_

Jean bit at his lip piercing for a couple seconds before looking down, raising an incredulous eyebrow as soon as he read it. He scoffed, ever so lightly, and scrawled out a reply.

**Really? Now?**

_Yes, now, why the fuck not?_

**Marco Bodt swearing?? Well I never.**

_Answer me Jean_

**Answer what? We’re talking aren’t we?**

_Not what I meant and you know it_

**Do I**

_YES!!!! Jean whats wrong? And don’t say nothing._

**…nothing**

_DON’T SAY NOTHING!!!_

**Really Marco, its nothing**

_You’re mad at me_

**I’m not mad**

_And you’re ignoring me because…?_

**I’m not mad**

**I’m upset**

_Upset at what??????_

**It’s nothing**

_It’s about me I know it_

_Is it about what I said at lunch_

_About us being friends_

**It wasn’t what you said**

**I’m straight duh**

**But you laughed at it**

**And it kinda hurt that you thought it was that laughable**

**Am I really that bad?**

_Oh nononononono Jean no_

_It wasn’t that_

**What was it then**

_I was laughing at thought of you ever wanting to be with someone as lame as me…_

**For fucks sake Marco**

_I wasn’t laughing at you I promise_

_Please forgive me_

_Im so so so sorry that upset you!_

**Forgiven you dork**

**I had nothing to be upset about anyway**

**AND**

**How many times do I have to remind you that YOU. ARE. A. CATCH.**

**Don’t dare use ‘someone as lame as me’ when describing yourself when you’re literally perfect and any guy would be lucky to have you fall in love with him**

_Jean pls_

**Nope not having it freckles ur hot and smart boys better be flocking to u or else they don’t deserve u**

_…thank you jean_

**Youre welcome freckles**

_Come over tomorrow? Video games and pizza?_

**I’d be honoured**

Petra announced the wrapping up of class bringing Marco’s attention back to the front of the room, locking Petra’s suspicious gaze for two seconds before looking away in guilt, a blush flaring on his cheeks. One look at Jean showed he held his own blush too, a deep red slowly climbing its way up the side of his neck, spreading to his cheeks quickly. The blonde scratched at his brown undercut, trying to avoid Petra’s gaze also as he began to pack his things for the end of school.

“And Mr. Bodt, I need a word.”

“Yes Miss.”

Jean zipped up his back-pack and gave Marco one last apologetic gaze, he had practice so they wouldn’t be walking together today. “Sorry man, see ya tomorrow.”

Marco offered a smile and a small farewell, before zipping up his own bag and making his way to the very front of the class o the chair in front of Petra’s desk she reserved for students seeking her help between classes. She was really chill, and since English was Marco’s absolute favourite subject the two had clicked fast and she became somewhat of an authoritative confidante for the freckled teen.

Petra herself sat behind her desk and her arms laid folded in front of her, a disappointed frown on her face as she sat in quiet waiting for the last student to leave. Marco squirmed in his chair slightly in discomfort at the intense glare she gave the table as Thomas Wagner became the last to leave the room. He knew she was doing it melodramatically to tease him but that didn’t make him any less uncomfortable at thought of her being disappointed in him.

As Thomas Wagner closed the door behind him with a short ‘bye miss’, Petra leaned forward with a mockingly sweet smile on her face, “So, Marco, couldn’t help but notice you were a little bit _distracted_ during my lesson.”

“Uh yeah, sorry, I, uh.”

“Oh quit the crappy apologies,” Petra laughed, letting her act fall away from her person, smiling genuinely at the still awkward boy. “Honestly, Marco I do that every time you ask to talk to me, why do you still get upset?”

Marco muttered to himself, “you’re a good actress, I guess,” but Petra heard it anyway and waved the comment off.

“What _were_ you talking about anyway, you both seemed upset when you walked in? Anything you need my help with?” Petra’s smile immediately turned to one of concern and Marco’s first thought was to ask her for treatment for the whiplash her rapid changes of emotion were making him feel.

Instead though, he broke almost instantly, breaking into the full story of his awkward secret admirer and their notes and gifts. Unlike with his explanations to his friends though, he also vouched to tell her about how it was conflicted with his crush on Jean, confusing him and making him vacant and undecided almost always. Petra practically knew about his crush on Jean before Marco did and had been helping him with the whole ‘unrequited’ love thing ever since. Apparently, she had experience in dealing with it.

As he neared the end of his story, he noticed Petra had an amused glint in her eye and she let out excited little gasps or squeals at the right moments, although she did not fully interrupt him waiting for the real ending of the tale before she commented.

“Wow, sweetheart, you’ve had a busy couple of days!”

“Yeah…”

Petra gave a toothy grin and clapped to herself in excitement, “Oh this is so exciting, I can’t help but to see how this pans out!”

“How it ‘pans out’, miss? You sound like you already know the outcome?” Marco gave a nervous chuckle.

Petra’s following smirk was truly one for the ages, the mischief in her eyes evident. “Oh, I’m an experienced woman, Marco, I have a few ideas as to what’s going on! But, I’m afraid I can’t give too much o y thoughts away – I think this is a conclusion you have to come to on your own, dear, okay?”

“Okay?”

“That being said…I _can_ give you the full list of names of the people that attended that English Lecture when you said that. Unofficially, of course, I’m not supposed to just hand that shit out!”

“You’re also not supposed to swear in front of students, but here we are.” Marco retorted, dryly.

“Here we are, indeed. I’ll print the list for you would that help you out?” Se had already clicked print anyway, Marco could hear the chortling of the printer as it came alive to print the name of the person who was sending him gifts (amongst many others but still).

“hat would actually be really great, yeah,” he replied anyway, “Petra?”

“Hm?”

“What about Jean?”

“What _about_ Jean?”

“How am I supposed to pursue this…thing, when I’m still mad for him?”

Petra gave a conspiratory wink as she pulled the pages from the printer, “I have a feeling everything will work out, you just have to let nature run its course, okay? Oh, and I’m putting my number on here because A.” She scrawled some numbers on the top of the first page, “I’m curious how this could turn out and B. This could be an emotional tme for you and I want you to know that you can lean on me for support. I’ your teacher and I care for your well-being, yes?”

“Thanks, Petra.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of the double update today, expect the next one at some point late tomorrow night!


	4. Day 4: A Lifetime Supply of Nutella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco gets a wake-up call from someone unexpected and receives a mysteriously large box from you-know who.

**Saturday December 16 th 2017**

Saturday was an extremely _long_ day for Marco, if only for the fact that he was awake by 6am due to a loud, obnoxious knocking at his bedroom window. In a bleary haze, Marco sat up in his bed, running a hand through his mop of hair.

He glared at the window, sleep still clouding his actions, able to make out a face through a small gap in the curtains. Any grogginess Marco felt flew out of him at that. A face. In his window.

His bedroom was on the second floor.

Hopping out of his bed, he all but ran to his window, dodging various books he’d left on the floor. He pulled back his curtains, somewhat cautiously. It seemed silly, since it was doubtful a burglar or murderer would knock before he came in.

He was met with the grinning face of Armin fucking Arlert looking incredibly chipper for someone hanging on to his window for dear life at six in the fucking morning. His big blue eyes danced with mischief as he smirked at Marco’s incredulous expression. “Armin?” Marco asked, despite it obviously being him there, as he pulled his window up to let him in.

“That’s my name!” Armin chortled, trying to pull himself up further. “You mind?” He gestured for Marco to help him up and Marco gripped the smaller boy’s forearms to pull him into his small bedroom.

Marco looked Armin up and down, taking in the fact that he was, apparently, still in his pyjamas, adorning long black and white checked pyjama bottoms and a fitting black t-shirt that showed his surprisingly defined muscles through them. His shoulder-length blonde hair, usually left down, was pulled back in a messy bun, smaller strands of hair framing his face. None of this, however, explained why he was there. “Uh, Armin? Not that I don’t love you or anything, but, why were you hanging on my windowsill at six in the morning?”

“I had some things to discuss with you, actually.”

“Some things?”

Armin, made himself at home, settling himself down on Marco’s bed, cross-legged, leaning back on his hands. “For a start, that list you were talking to me about last night, the one Miss Ral gave you? I thought I could help you go through them, you know, make it go faster.”

Marco nodded, sitting down against his headboard, “makes sense to me.”

“Well, of course it makes sense, I’m a genius!” Armin laughed, before schooling his face into a curious gaze, “I also thought we could talk about Jean.”

Marco’s stomach dropped, but he tried to kept his face straight, “what about Jean?”

Armin chuckled, “don’t give me that, sweetheart, I know.”

“Know what?”

“Oh _please_ , Marco, you’re totally in love with the guy!”

Marco blanched, immediately beginning to deny it in a high squeak, “Th-that’s just not – I can’t believe you would even – God, could you imagine… - I don’t-” Marco sighed, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck. “Is it obvious?”

“Well, when you try to deny it like that, it does.”

Marco groaned at him.

“But, that’s ok! We have all morning to decide how you feel, and while we’re deciding let me look at that list.”

Marco stood to retrieve his messenger bag he carried his school books in, “I think we’ve established by that awful attempt of hiding it, that I am helplessly in love with my best friend.” He pulled out the six pages Petra had printed for them and handed them to Armin.

“This number is for…?” Armin question, spying Petra’s number atop the first page of names.

Marco shrugged, “Petra gave it to me, y’know, just in case.”

“You call her Petra?” Marco nodded and Armin simply shrugged right back at him, “fair, I suppose, and anyway, that wasn’t what I was talking about when I was talking about your feelings.” He looked around the room and added, “pass me a pen?”

Marco obliged, reaching into his bag again to retrieve one, “what did you mean, then? What feelings?”

“About this whole secret admirer thing, obviously, I just – thank you -” he cut himself off to grab the pen out of Marco’s hands, “think you need to talk about it with someone who knows you like Jean and can tell you that its okay to still like him, even while someone else is expressing interest.”

Marco flushed, flopping himself down on the bed next to the papers Armin had spread out and had began crossing names off of. “Thanks man, that means a lot – really. I mean, I already told Petra that I’m not sure about this at all, but it feels better to talk to someone my own age.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Armin said with a chuckle, then added quietly: “maybe once I’ve sorted out your problems you could help me with mine…” He crossed ‘Abernathy, Justin’ off of the list, avoiding Marco’s gaze as the other boy craned his head to look at his friends.

“You got love troubles, Arlert?”

“Only that I’ve been in love with Eren since I was 5, nothing new.” He struck off ‘Benson, George’.

Marco gaped up at him, “You and Eren?”

“Me and Eren.”

“Right, right okay. Kinda makes sense to me, you’d make a cute couple.”

‘Brockford, Wesley’ was deleted from the list, “too bad he’s straighter than a frat boy.”

“We’re a right pair, aren’t we?” Marco laughed, and Armin looked up to share a smile before going back to concentrating on crossing off names, “Hey, Armin what exactly are you doing?”

“Crossing off the names of people who are most definitely straight.”

Marco nodded to himself, “good strategy, I suppose.”

“So, what do you think? Peyton Carter is definitely straight right?”

Marco rose an eyebrow, “I don’t know, Armie, with those skinny blue jeans of his?”

“You’re absolutely right,” Armin smirked, “he’s, at the very least, bi. Now, tell me, why exactly do you even like Jean? He’s a bit…you know.”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

 

* * *

 

This went on through most of the morning. They took a break for breakfast, thankful that Marco’s mum didn’t even bother to ask when Armin had arrived, then carried right on through to almost noon when Marco was expecting Jean to arrive.

By that time, they had reached five conclusions:

One. Marco was most definitely in love with Jean and that wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Two. Armin should probably tell Eren how he feels

Three. Marco’s secret admirer was one of a possible ten people. (Nine, Marco mentally corrected, as Armin had kept Jean’s name in there - despite the fact he was straight and in love with Mikasa – and refused to remove him)

Four. It was fine for Marco to still pursue the secret admirer even whilst still unsure how he felt about it…he still had time to figure it all out.

And Five. They most definitely shouldn’t have started all of this at 6am because both boys were positively exhausted. They’d barely moved anywhere but Marco was most definitely mentally drained from all of the thinking they’d been doing.

“Are we sure about Thomas Wagner being a possibility?” Sofia asked the two boys as she reviewed the paper once more while Marco flicked through the channels on the TV absently. She’d joined in some time after breakfast, their mother having left to take their younger siblings Christmas shopping. Armin had been somewhat surprised at her investment in her older brother’s love life. “I could’ve sworn he had a thing with Mina Carolina?” She tapped at her phone quickly, glancing at the list every now and then, waiting for an answer.

“He did,” Armin replied, fiddling with his phone, “but they broke up last month and I’m pretty sure he came out as bi before they got together…”

“Mmm,” Marco agreed, “I vaguely remember that.”

“Okay, Thomas stays then, I stand corrected.” She paused, looking as though she was listening out for something, “Hey Marco?”

“Yah?” he flicked passed the cooking channel.

“Was that a knock on the door?”

“I’uno, want me to check?”

“Please?”

Marco’s body groaned in protest as he got up from his perfectly comfy position on the couch to slump his way over to the door. He could hear Armin attempting to make polite conversation with is sister as he left, and his sister’s half-assed replies.

He opened the door a crack to be greeted with a large box addressed to him. Large as in, wider than a barge and half of his height. It was decorated with a cute snowman pattern, a wide smile adorning each snowperson’s face. It was heavy too, his first attempt to carry it into the house resulted in him falling over and the box not moving an inch. “Hey Armin? Sofia?” he called out in need and at their acknowledgement continued, “a little help? Please?!”

There was shuffling as he carried on at his attempt to heave the box indoors. “Jesus Christ!” Sofia laughed at the sight of Marco, red in the face as he tried to push the box along the floor. Armin was close behind her, looking on in curiosity, “What in the hell is in there?”

“I don’t know, coal?” Marco joked, “help me push it in, quick.”

Sofia and Armin moved forwards immediately, Sofia going to meet Marco and help push it and Armin standing on the opposite side to pull it. They began to move it, and, with a little effort, managed to haul it into the living room without much fuss. They all stood, for longer than necessary, staring at the box. It wasn’t until a fourth voice rang through the house that they all jumped out of whatever thoughts they had.

“Marco? You here, bro?” It was Jean, of course, the only person who let himself in to Marco’s house that wasn’t family, “why’s the door left wide open?” Oh right, yeah, he forgot to shut the door behind the box.

“Special delivery just came,” Marco called back and footsteps could be heard following the sound of Marco’s voice, “get in here and we’ll open it.”

“Another secret admirer thing?” Jean asked, entering the room with a smirk and raised eyebrow plastering his face, “looks big this time, finally spent the big bucks on you huh?”

“Shut up, Jean,” Armin said, “You make it sound unromantic.”

Jean held his hands up, smirk still in place, “I’m just sayin’, go ahead and open it though, Marco, seriously.”

Marco nodded and turned back to the box, tugging it open, hard. Self-consciousness pooled in his stomach as he felt three sets of eyes watch him peel back the top of the box. He didn’t know why this was any different from opening the secret gifts in front of his family, but opening them in front of Armin and Jean, especially, felt like a betrayal in an unsettling way. If anyone noticed Marco’s hesitation, they didn’t comment on it, and the box was soon opened to reveal the tops of what looked to be many jars. Picking one up for inspection, Armin confirmed exactly what they were.

“Jars of _Nutella?_!”

Marco blushed, “I, uh, _really_ like Nutella.”

“Well, you have it, like, every single day.” Jean waved off as he picked up a small card on top of the jars, “a note, looks like it is from your secret admirer.”

Scratching at the back of his neck, Marco eyed the note in Jean’s hands. “What’s it say?”

Jean rose an eyebrow at his best friend, “You want me to read it?” He looked between the note and Marco, looking as though he wondered why he was being trusted with it.

“Y-yeah, why not?”

“No reason,” Jean shrugged then looked down at the card, “Okay, It saaaaays:”

Sofia growled from her spot back on the sofa when Jean paused for dramatic effect, “Get on with it, undercut.”

Jean winked at her, “It says:

**_On the Fourth Day of Christmas my true love gave to me…_ **

**_A Lifetime Supply of so-called ‘Chocolatey Goodness’ (or as much as I could get)._** ”

“‘Chocolatey Goodness’? You actually call it that in front of people?” Sofia snorted, “My brother, the world’s biggest dork, ladies and gents!”

“Shut up, Sofi, I think it’s cute he calls it that,” Armin chimed in, reminding Marco that he was actually still there.

Jean nodded in agreement, “It’s downright adorable.” If Marco hadn’t been blushing before, he was most certainly blushing at the lopsided smile and twinkle Jean held in his eyes as they exchanged a glance.

 

* * *

 

It had taken them an hour and a half to find away to store the thirty-six – THIRTY-SIX – jars of Nutella, after which, Armin took his leave. Marco had given the boy a huge, bone-crushing hug in thanks for his help, whispering: “Don’t forget to tell Eren,” in his ear, earning a questioning glance from Jean and a blush from the blonde who countered with an ‘I could say the same to you’ which only resulted in doubling the intensity in Jean’s stare.

After that the Bodts and Jean went on to do what they usually did on a Saturday. Sofia went to some cheer leader’s house for some kind of Sophomore party, Marina came home and began to make a big pot of Jean’s favourite of her pasta recipes (“When Jean’s here, he’s the favourite son,” she teased Marco when he complained at her.) and Jean and Marco were left to watch TV with the twins and Marta, the latter of whom was always absolutely besotted with Jean whenever he came over.

Marco couldn’t help but laugh at the fact his sisters always seemed to crush on one of his friends, Camilla would probably turn to him next week confessing a crush on Armin or Connie. Marco couldn’t help but flinch at the thought. Why anyone would be attracted to Connie of all people was beyond him.

At any rate, Camilla was sat beside Marco, his arm resting on the Sofa behind her back, Daniel sat on the floor between Jean’s legs and Marco’s and little Marta was curled up in Jean’s lap watching Sofia the First, the boy braiding her hair as per her request. Jean being an only child with no really close friends other than Marco and, perhaps, Reiner, Marco always found himself wondering when exactly Jean figured out how to braid hair and do all the stuff Marta insisted he help her do. Nevertheless, it was endearing to watch the boy run his fingers through the small girl’s hair, humming along to the theme song of a show he had no particular interest in. Thus, Marco always found himself watching Jean watch Marta watch the TV, as it often made the usually rough and aggressive boy look angelic and soft in a way that made warmth pool in Marco’s stomach.

“Hey, Marco?” came a whisper from Camilla on his other side, far too quiet for the other three siblings to notice. Marco hummed at her in response, leaning in closer to hear her clearer. “Why are you staring at him so hard?”

Marco risked a scandalised look at his sister, who had been playing her twin in some kind of Super Mario game on their Nintendo switch and was basking in a win as Daniel complained at her, blaming his choice in character for his defeat. “What are you talking about?” he hissed back, “Staring? I wasn’t-”

“Yes, you were!” Camilla protested, folding her arms with a finality Marco didn’t expect from a twelve-year-old. “You were looking at him all lovey-dovey.”

“Camilla!” Jean and Marta were, luckily, singing the theme song as it a new episode started up and hadn’t noticed, but Daniel was looking at them curiously now, waiting for his twin to carry on their game.

“What? You _were_!”

“For God’s sake,” Marco pouted at his sister, who just looked back at him with a smug grin. Twelve-year-olds shouldn’t be allowed to be smug. Marco glanced back at Jean o see him tying off Marta’s braid proudly, “Hey Jean?”

“Hm, yes?” came the reply.

“Mind if we just chill out upstairs for a bit.”

Jean glanced at him with slight confusion but shrugged, “Yeah, sure man, I _did_ come to see _you_ after all.” Marco’s heart leapt at the sentiment, but he shrugged it off.

“Exactly! Now, come on Marta, let me have my friend back…”

Marta scowled and gripped tightly onto Jean’s midsection with a shake of her head. “No. Nonononono. You get him _all the time_. It’s my turn.”

“Marta, sweetie, I promise I’ll come play with you some more after dinner, okay?” Jean smiled at the small blond, slowly disentangling himself from her grip. She still had a grip on his hand, however, and he had to give her a soft look and add another “okay?” to prompt her to release him.

“You promise?” Marta’s eyes were wide and she looked up at her brother’s best friend who now stood away from her.

Jean crouched to her eye level and held out his right pinky finger towards her, “Pinky promise.” The grin spreading across Jean’s face as Marta wrapped her pinky around his almost made Marco swoon.

“Okay, now we’re going to go upstairs so you better be good for your mama.”

“Yes, Jean,” came three replies, one completely serious the other two with a light tease to them. Even still, Marco grabbed Jean’s hand and all but dragged him up to his room. The implications of his actions seemed to hit him as he reached his door and he yanked his hand away subtly, tryig hard to hide the blush creeping up his neck.

Jean must not have noticed as he proceeded, as usual, to barge into Marco’s room and flop himself down on the bed. Marco hovered for a moment in the doorway, taking in Jean’s...everything. His undercut hair was mussed up, as though he’d been running his hand through it one time too many. He was wearing one of his baggy band shirts, an alternative band that he prided himself in being the only one in school to have heard of them, accompanying his lip piercing, Jean had added his other piercings, his eyebrow and nose both adorning rings. He looked _good_ , better than usual, his skinny jeans most definitely hugging in all the best places.

“You’ve changed your look,” Jean commented, breaking the long silence between them as Marco finally perched himself on the edge if the bed, at Jean’s feet.

Marco looked down at the thrift shop jumper and skinny black jeans Armin had forced him into that morning insisting he looked good like that. “Oh, have I?” He decided to play nonchalance.

Jean nodded, sucking in his lip piercing as he fiddled his phone out of his pocket, “It suits you, y’know. I mean, so did the sweater vests and slacks but its nice to see you look so casual for once.”

“Riiiiight,” Marco replied, unsure how to take the words from his crush, “Thanks, I guess.”

Jean laughed, throwing his head back into it. “No need to get all bashful, Marco I was just making an observation.”

“I know, I know, its just, Armin told me to wear this.”

“Thought so,” Jean chuckled, “we all talked about how good you looked in that, uh, interesting get up you wore yesterday.”

“I woke up late!” Marco groaned, thinking over his slightly mismatched outfit from the bay before. “Armin said the baggy look compliments me, whatever that mmeans?”

“At this point, I’ve sorta just learned to take what Armin says as bible.”

“Same, why’d ya think I was wearing what he told me to?”

“Because it makes you look hot as hell?”

Queue a blush on Marco’s cheeks.

“Why was he here anyway?”

“He, erm, he turned up at my window at 6am to work who the secret admirer is.”

Jean whistled, “6am huh? That early?” his head snapped to the window suddenly then back to Marco in horror, “wait the window?”

Marco shook his head with a small smile, “don’t even ask because I don’t know, man.”

“Fair enough,” Jean laughed, “how did it go then?” Jean tugged on Marco’s arm, making him move to lay beside him. Marco complied, used to his friends need for hugs and affection that always came out when the two were in private.

“Mm, how did what go?”

“Finding out who it is,” Jean elaborated, pulling Marco closer and allowing the taller boy to rest his head upon his shoulder. “It must’ve taken a while if Armin was still here when I got here.”

“Took us all morning,” Marco agreed, burying his head into Jean’s shoulder and revelling in the feel of the other boys hand stroking up his back in comfort. “Got it cut down to like nine people, well eight if we get rid of your name, but Armin insisted we keep you on there, despite how ridiculous that is.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, Marco couldn’t see Jean’s face but he inwardly slapped himself at the thought that he had made his friend uncomfortable in any way. “Yeah,” Jean finally answered in a strained tone. “Ridiculous.” Whatever had made him pause was shrugged off almost immediately, voice changing back to normal, “who _is_ your top suspect then? Who do you think it is? Please don’t say Daz, I may have to kill you for thinking him the romantic type.”

Marco chuckled, “No, no, not him. We think Thomas Wagner may be the culprit.”

“You say ‘culprit’ like he’s committed a crime!” Jean joked, squeezing Marco’s whole body into him as if to assure him it was, in fact, a definite joke.”

“Maybe he has,” Marco chuckled settling himself into his best friend’s arms before changing the subject, “Can we watch Netflix or something? My laptop is literally right beside your side of the bed.”

“Sure thing, Freckles, sure thing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I am SO sorry I didn't get to finish this before Christmas my laptop broke and I couldn't pick it up from stores until after Christmas. I still plan on finishing this so if y'all still want to read it please stay tuned. 
> 
> Thank you for all the lovely messages about this story, they made me so happy during the time I couldn't write and motivated me to get all of the chapters all planned out ready to write.
> 
> Until next time xo


	5. The Antique Type-writer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco's feeling the pressure of choosing between his feelings for Jean and the feelings he thinks he has for the secret admirer, while Armin gets his heart broken.

**Sunday December 17 th 2017**

When Marco woke up on Sunday morning he was sure of three things. He had fallen asleep gaming again, if the heavy weight of the controller in his left hand and the distant sounds of the fortnite main menu theme on his TV were anything to go by. It was clear he had managed to sleep through until mid-afternoon, the light creeping in from the drawn curtains was far too bright to even be considered the morning light. No, that was definitely the streaming light of one or two in the afternoon. Another thing; Marco’s arm was _dead_. Like full on deceased. That, of course was probably due to the teenage boy with a two-tone undercut curled into his side. Jean must have _also_ fallen asleep gaming and in a typical Jean fashion had proceeded to cling on to the closest thing to him, which, incidentally, was Marco.

Marco pulled his hand up to play with the bristles of Jean’s undercut. It felt strange, in contrast to the soft feel of the top of his friend’s head, but Marco always found that he liked the rough brown stubble underneath the blonde mess. Marco sighed to himself, content in all honesty to stay right where he was for the rest of the day.

That, of course, was never going to happen.

Marco’s bedroom door was all but slammed open, hitting the wall with a resounding thud.

The ever-graceful Daniel Bodt trudged into the room with a shit-eating grin adorning his face, eyeing his brother and Jean’s positions on the bed with a knowing look. Marco brought his hand up to his lips to warn his brother not to wake up Jean, who was remarkably undisturbed by the unceremonious bang of Marco’s door.

Daniel just grinned wider, edging closer to the bed. Marco resisted shaking his head frantically, fearing the sudden movement would stir his best friend anyway, as his little brother sprang into the air like a wild animal. The twelve-year old’s chubby form slammed down on the two friends, effectively knocking all air from both pairs of lungs.

Jean let out a pained grunt and opened his eyes wide at the sudden weight on his chest. His eyes met Daniel’s almost immediately, the younger Bodt brother still grinning wildly. “ _Lunch_ is ready, sleepyheads.”

“Fuck off, brat,” Marco groaned. He scrambled to pull his arm out from under Jean to push his brother away, but the attempt was in vain as Daniel had already scrambled off the bed himself, retreating from the room with a maniac laugh (and if Marco bothered to listen closely enough, he probably would have heard him calling out to Camilla proudly about his success in annoying his elder brother).

Jean let out another grunt, turning over onto his front. This, Marco decided, wouldn’t have been so bad, if it weren’t for the fact that he turned _in_ , like, as in towards Marco. Jean was _burying his head into Marco’s chest_ and Marco was trying desperately hard not to squeal as his crush’s arms wrapped around his torso. “Your brother sucks.” The words were muffled against Marco’s chest, causing vibrations to run through the freckled boy’s body. Marco tried not to shiver.

He let out a chuckle, resuming running his hands through the two-toned hair he loved so much. “I know.” Marco stretched out one arm, feeling around on the beside table for his phone, desperate to not sit up and disturb Jean too much just yet. His hand brushed the cold glass of his phone screen and he pulled it closer to his face, letting his hand rest on Jean’s head to balance the phone. “The others blew up the group chat this morning,” Marco said casually, scrolling through what the two boys had missed.

“M’yeah?” Jean hummed, rubbing the side of his head against Marco’s chest (and Marco really hoped he couldn’t feel his heart hammering against his chest), “what they saying?”

“Just making plans for something,” Marco said, saving a meme Eren sent to his phone, “still scrolling up to figure out what exactly it is.”

Jean chuckled, “why don’t you just ask?”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Marco blushed a little, “didn’t think about that.”

\--

**FreckledJesus:** uh,,,, hi?

**FreckledJesus:** what did we miss.

**Ymir:** well hello to u too mr ded to the wrld.

**ArminArmout:** WE eh? Not alone this morning are we????

**jaegermeister:** yikes I dnt wanna hear about horse face’s sex life.

**FreckledJesus:** shhhhhh!!!!

**FreckledJesus:** Yall knooow it’s not like that.

**FreckledJesus:** tell me what you were talking abooout!

**BAEner:** nah. I’d rather ear about you and Jean were doing las night

**FreckledJesus:** we watched a kdrama then played fortnite till we fell asleep

**ruok?:** kdrama? What kinda weeb bullshit

**BAEner:** ikr damn didn’t realise Jean was that whipped

**BertlTurtl:** maybe jean was the one who wanted to watch it! You don’t now anything.

**BAEner:** ur right babe, sorry

**Jaegermeister:** now look whos whipped.

**ArminArmout:** Eren can you come over? I need help packing the stuff for tomorrow!

**Jaegermeister:** be right there

**ErensMom:** are you fucking serious

**_ruok? has changed ‘horseface’ to ‘whipped 1’_ **

**_ruok? has changed ‘BAEner’ to ‘whipped 2’_ **

**_ruok? has changed ‘jaegermeister’ to ‘whipped 3’_ **

**\--**

“What are you giggling at?” Jean questioned, propping his chin on Marco’s chest to look up at him with a lazy smile.

Marco just giggled again. “Check your own phone, ‘whipped 1’”

Jean furrowed his brows at Marco, confusion seeping into every feature of his face. “Whipped? How am I whipped?”

“Ask them not me.”

“Have you even found out what they were planning?”

“No.”

“Are you going to?”

“Ask them yourself!”

Jean chuckled and buried his face back into Marco’s chest, “bt m’ cmfy,” came the reply, hard to decipher in Jean’s attempt to talk literally into Marco’s skin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Marco ran his hand through Jean’s hair once more before turning his attention back to his phone, “I’ll ask now.”

\--

**whipped 3:** smh I’m telling y’all I am NOT whipped.

**ErensMom:** you’re not only whipped by armin but by me too, sit ur double whipped ass down.

**CueBall:** dayum, mika snapped.

**whipped 3:** ffs have u been lurking this whole time???

**FreckledJesus:** AS ENTERTAINING AS THIS CONVERSATION IS

**FreckledJesus:** Can one of you PLEASE for the love of GOD

**FreckledJesus:** Tell me and Jean what you were planning this morning.

**ArminArmout:** Oh right! We were just talking about going to the park tomorrow? It’s our first official day off of school for Christmas you know?

**ArminArmout:** we were saying we meet there at like 2?

\--

“Park tomorrow, Jean?”

“What time?

“2.”

Audible sigh. “Yeah, whatever. Can I just stay here again tonight then? I’m gonna have to give you a ride anyway.”

“Yeah, my dad’s got the car next week, you’ve got your car here, right?”

“Mhmm, anyone else need me to give them a ride?”

\--

**FreckledJesus:** Right.

**FreckledJesus:** Jean says does anyone else need a ride?

**PotatoGrl:** ME!!!!

**CueBall:** ME!!!!

**FreckledJesus:** …

**FreckledJesus:** Anyone else?

**whipped 2:** Nah, I’m takin Bertl, Annie, Krista n Ymir

**ruok?:** N Eren is prolly taking his two little whippees because they all live on the same street, so ur stuck with the weed twins boi

**FreckledJesus:** sigh we’ll pick them up at quarter to.

**whipped 3:** FOR THE LAST TIME I’M NOT WHIPPED AND IF I WAS IT WOULDN’T BE FOR FUCKING ARMIN.

\--

“Oh fuck.”

“What? We stuck with Connie and Sasha again?”

“No. Well, I mean, yeah, but that’s not what I ‘oh fuck’ed at.”

“What then?”

“I think Eren just broke Armin’s heart a lil?”

“Oh fuck.” Jean manoeuvred himself on the bed so he could drape one arm over Marco’s waist and read the chat over his shoulder, cuddled up into his side. “Oh _Fuck_.”

Marco hummed his agreement and, trying hard not to blush at the way he and Jean were laying, opened up his private chat with Armin.

\--

**Marcie:** You okay, Minnie?

**Minnie:** I knew he didn’t like me like that ☹

**Marcie:** No no no no no don’t say that Armin!! He was just embarrassed!!!!

**Minnie:** lol nah it’s ok. At least now I don’t have to tell him and make a fool out of myself.

**Marcie:** want me to do anything? I can get Jean to kick his ass.

**Minnie:** Honest, I’m fine. Need to go though, Eren’s over! Have fun today! Let me know how the secret admirer thing is going!!!

\--

Marco and Jean both shared a wide-eyed look, realising they’d forgotten all about Marco’s secret admirer. “FUCK!” Marco exclaimed and scrambled to untangle himself from Jean’s arms as the other boy attempted to do the exact same.

“I can’t believe we forgot about your secret admirer,” Jean laughed, throwing his head back into it, as the pair of boys scrambled for the door. “It’s only been the main focus of our conversations the last four and a half days!”

The two boys raced down the stairs, hissing every now and then as they knocked shoulders – hard – on their haste to get to the bottom. As they hit the floor of Marco’s downstairs hall, they were met with the sight of Marco’s whole family, excluding his father who had most likely left for work, crowded around the kitchen table, lunch all set out in front of them (and in two empty spaces, set for the two boys,) with a large box in the middle.

Marina looked the two of them – clad in tank tops and shorts – with a single raised brow, “You’ve got mail,” she quipped, taking a bite of her salad without taking her eyes off of the two boys that edged their way closer to the table. “Do hurry up,” she said, “We’ve been waiting all morning to find out what it is! Your father had to help me carry it in, it was quite heavy!”

Marco frowned at the box for a moment after he’d sat down. He could feel his whole family staring him down, his only comfort being Jean seemed to be more interested on the sandwich in front of him than in the box.

“Seriously, bro, hurry up!” Sofia urged, snapping Marco out of whatever trance he had put himself in as he stared at the box. He reached forward, with trembling hands.

The box was – luckily – easy enough to rip open, and Marco soon found himself staring at one of the most beautiful antique typewriters he’d ever seen. Deep brown, with red accents, all buttons still in check. Ready to write with, by the looks of it.

His secret admirer somehow knew Marco had always wanted one.

Jean’s voice asking, “You alright, Freckles?” alerted Marco to the fact that he was starting to tear up at the sight of the type writer. These things were quite expensive when bought in the right state and this seemed to be almost exactly the one he’ dreamed of having on display for years.

“M’fine,” Marco said, shakily, “It’s just – How did he know?”

“He must have been listening to you very closely, dear,” Marina said in her usual comforting tone, leaning forward to pass an envelope to her son. “Why don’t you read the note?”

Marco took the envelope and all but ripped it in half to tear out the note as quickly as possible. He read it quickly, smiling at the small message, that was once again written in a new handwriting.

‘ ** _On the Fifth Day of Christmas my true love gave to me…_**

**_An Antique to remind you of your dreams._** ’

“That’s totally sweet!” Sofia gushed from where she was reading over her brother’s shoulder. “You still think it’s Wagner?”

Marco frowned, trying to think of a time he’d talked about wanting to own a typewriter (or even _be_ a writer, for that matter). “Not sure…” Marco said honestly but trailed off. He was still unsure of his own thoughts on the matter and probably needed an hour or so to collect them. The thoughtfulness of the gift had really gotten to his emotions, as it confirmed the seriousness of this admirer’s feelings for him. Something he felt strange about with his own conflicted feelings towards both the anonymous boy and his best friend.

Said best friend took photos of both the typewriter and the note from beside him, muttering that he would send them to the others in the group chat for him. Marco was thankful, as he himself was on the brink of a mental breakdown.

Maybe that was a slight exaggeration, but Marco was definitely shook.

\--

The rest of lunch was mostly quiet, idle chatter coming from the younger Bodts and Marina. Marco has eaten his food with his mind racing with thoughts that he couldn’t really put together. When they were all done, Marco was so lost in his mind he didn’t even take notice to Jean informing Marina he was staying another night. He didn’t notice Jean grab his hand again and pull him back up to his room. He was just a bit… well, confused. Marco never had been good at dealing with confusion.

“Yo, freckles you in there?” Jean had sat them both side by side on the edge of Marco’s bed and was looking at Marco with soft concern in his eyes.

Marco hummed. “I’m here, can we watch a movie?”

“Sure freckles.” Jean didn’t even question that Marco didn’t want to talk about it. That was the good thing about having him as a best friend, he knew when to drop it. (With Marco, at least, with Eren – that was a different story).

Marco leant back on the bed, wriggling himself up the mattress until he was laid with his head on his pillow, while Jean stood to put on a random movie. Jean didn’t attempt to keep up conversation, instead letting an awkward silence sit between them. At least, it felt awkward, but Marco wasn’t really sure why it _would_ be awkward between them.

Unless Jean somehow knew the Marco was helplessly in love with him.

That couldn’t be right though, surely. It wasn’t like Marco was particularly _obvious_ about it. Not like he’d ever given his best friend even a slither of reason to believe it. Had he? God, he hoped not.

Marco’s phone pinged.

Jean stared at it.

Marco’s phone pinged again.

Marco kept himself concentrated on the movie. He loved Howl’s Moving Castle.

Another ping.

“You gonna get that?”

Ping. Ping. Ping. Ping.

Marco sighed. “I guess I should.” He didn’t particularly want to talk about right now, but it could’ve been important. With another heavy sigh, Marco pulled out his phone.

\--

**Minnie:** Marcie :((((((

**Minnie:** Me and Eren had a fight

**Minnie:** I just ran out of my own house

**Minnie:** It was

**Minnie:** Bad

**Minnie:** Super bad, dude.

**Minnie:** Can I come over?

**Marcie:** Sure Minnie! Jean n I will cheer you up.

**Minnie:** Thanks! I’m almost there

**Marcie:** I’ll make u some hot cocoa bby

**Minnie:** I love you :(((((((

**Marcie:** love you too Arminnie <3

\--

That night there were 3 people in Marco’s bed. Armin lay between the two best friends, drying tear tracks streaking his pale face, Marco’s arm around his waist and Jean’s hand in his hair. Marco could feel him shaking for the better part of the start of the night, but he just pulled the blonde closer to his chest. Subsequently, Jean moved closer also, his other arm winding its way around Marco and Armin both.

Marco would be lying if he said he didn’t blush to the high heavens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SO SORRY!!! I ALMOST FLUNKED OUT OF UNI AND WENT THROUGH SOME SHIT BECAUSE OF THAT BUT IM BACK HOES!!! EXPECT ANOTHER CHAPTER SOON
> 
> LOVE YALL


	6. A Lifeline of Books

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco, Armin and Jean spend the morning together before heading to the group hangout. 
> 
> Armin and Jean both tell Marco what he needs to hear.

####  **Monday December 18** **th** **2017**

The three boys awoke the next morning to a tangle of limbs, comforter kicked half off their bodies to the floor, and Sofia, sat cross-legged on the corner of Marco’s bed, dainty pink box in her hands and a wide grin on her face. “Well, nice of you to join me, dorks!” She chirped when she noticed one of Marco’s eyes peak open and Armin stir in her brother’s arms. 

The two boys sat up slowly, Armin’s eyes still half closed, careful not to wake up Jean in the process. “Wha’s up ‘ofia?” Marco murmured, a yawn half present as he spoke. 

“Oh, you know,” Sofia answered, airily, rolling her eyes and grin not faltering, “nothing really  _ important _ , just another present from  _ you know who. _ ”

“Voldemort bought Marco a present?” came a grumble from Jean, who was apparently not as asleep as they previously thought. “didn’t know you were a death eater, Freckles.” 

Armin let out a snort. 

“Funny.” Sofia said bluntly, “but I  _ meant  _ his admirer.”

Marco’s hands ran over the sides of the box, it was big enough that it sat across his lap, sides hanging off the edges of his legs, but it was tall, reaching Marco’s neck. The pale pink wrapping around the box was accompanied by a thick hot pink ribbon, tied perfectly at the top into a beautiful large bow, with strips of ribbon cascading around it. 

Marco fiddled with the ribbon, but bit his lip, scared to open it. 

“Take your time, Marco,” Armin encouraged him with a small smile, his hand taking Marco’s free one and givin it a small squeeze. 

At Armin’s words, Jean peaked through his arm to look at his two friends with one eye. “You scared, Freckles?”

“A little.” 

Jean let out a small sigh, as he always did, and sat up to look Marco in the eyes. Though Armin sat between them, the concern and admiration in Jean’s stare had Marco feeling like there was no space between himself and those topaz eyes, intensely looking into his own. 

“Listen, Freckles, there’s nothing to worry about, okay?” Jean gave a small smile, “ there’s nothing scary in that box, yeah? What was in the other boxes?”

“Presents, but-“

“And were you worried when you opened them?”

“Yes, and-“

“And you were proven to have been worried over nothing, yes?” Marco hummed in agreement, knowing better than to try and argue with the other boy, “I know you still think this is all a joke, but I can  _ promise  _ you it’s not okay? This guy,  _ whoever the hell he is,  _ really cares about you, and from what i can see, he is  _ not  _ out to hurt your feelings. Open it, Freckles, its okay.” Jean ignored the small smirk Armin was giving him, and carried on staring into Marco’s eyes, seeing them glisten with happy (and perhaps slightly frustrated) tears. 

Marco nodded, more to hype himself up than to answer his crush, and bit his lip again before reaching for the card attached to the ribbon. 

He read it aloud. 

“ **_On the Sixth Day of Christmas my true love gave to me…_ ** **_  
_ ** **_A Lifeline to help you through the tough times._ ** ”

“No...” Marco whispered to himself, rushing to tug at the ribbons to confirm the hunch he had as to what the present was. There was no way, he reasoned, no way his secret admirer could possibly have found out about his lifelines. 

“Lifeline?” Armin questioned as the three others in the room watched Marco tug at the ribbon strings to loosen them up. 

Sofia simply shrugged in reply to the other boy, but Jean gave a lazy smirk, “if they got you what I think they did, Freckles, I swear you better marry the guy.”

Marco ignored the younger boy’s jest as he tugged away the last of the ribbon revealing the lid of the box. With shaking hands, he slowly lifted the lid, to reveal what appeared, at first glance, to be another box inside. This box was black with a purple, symmetrical flower pattern travelling across it. Marco frowned, and pulled at the box, to discover it was an open box holding something inside it. 

The boy pulled it out slowly, only to gasp when he saw what was held inside it. Seven books, each with their own theme pattern adorning the covers. Marco ran his hand across the spines taking in the titles. 

**_Pride and Prejudice._ **

**_Sense and Sensibility._ **

**_Emma._ **

**_Love and Friendship._ **

**_Persuasion._ **

**_Northanger Abbey._ **

**_Mansfield Park._ **

All were Jane Austen Novels.

All were his favourites to read when he was feeling incredibly low.

All were the edition he had been saving up for. 

“I don’t believe it!” Marco exclaimed, picking  _ Pride and Prejudice _ out of the box to examine it. 

Yep. It was definitely the exact book. The right typeface inside and everything.

“This costs so much money! I can’t believe he would go this far with it! He’s spent so much on me already!” The other three in the room looked at him through wide eyes as he carefully replaced the book and began to tear up. “It’s too much.”

Jean muttered something that sounded like “it’s not enough” under his breath but Marco decided to ignore it, instead allowing himself to openly cry over the extremely expensive books. 

“I don’t know what you’re getting yourself all worked up for,” Sofia rolled her eyes, although they still held an accent of worry for her older brother, “they’re just books. The covers aren’t even that pretty.”

Jean glared at her, “Yes it is, Sofia. These are his favourite versions of the books of course he’s going to be worked up about it!”

Armin seemed to examine Jean carefully before commenting, “you seem to know a lot about these books, Jean.”

Jean’s glare extended to both Sofia and Armin now, and the pair shrunk under the intensity of it. “Out. Now. Go make breakfast we’ll be down in a minute.”

Leaving no room for Marco to protest (even if he wanted to), Sofia and Armin all but bolted from the room flurries of phrases like “scrambled eggs on toast or pancakes” leaving their lips on the way out. 

Jean sighed as the bedroom door shut behind him and turned back to Marco. The other boy was still crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as he desperately tried to wipe them away.

Jean knelt in front of him and held his hands steady with his own, pulling them away from his freckled cheeks. “Come on, man, don’t be like this. What’s going on with you, huh? What’s this really about?”

Marco sniffled to himself and shook his head a little. Of course, he knew what was wrong. His feelings for Jean had done nothing but increase in the past couple of days, but this secret admirer was spending  _ so much money _ to buy him the most wonderful gifts he’d ever received. 

“Marco, I know you know what you’re upset about. Don’t shake your head at me freckles.”

“It’s just...so much. I don’t even know who this guy is and he’s spending £200 on a typewriter and £60 on books and that’s  _ so much  _ Jean, like, too much. I feel like I shouldn’t be accepting these gifts.”

Jean slid his hands from Marco’s wrists to hold both if his hands, and gave them a small squeeze. “I know, Marco, but I  _ promise _ you, it’s worth it. Everything’s going to work out for you.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because. You’re Marco fucking Bodt. You deserve the world and everyone knows it, including, your secret admirer, okay?”

Marco smiled sheepishly at Jean, “Okay.” He sniffled away the remainder of his tear as Jean stood upright and smiled down at him, reaching out his hand for Marco to take. 

“Come on, then, I believe we have plans today?” 

Marco took Jean’s outstretched hand with a smile, using it to help hoist himself up. “I believe we do.”

\--

“Brooooos! What took you guys so long!” Reiner was the first to greet the trio, Connie and Sasha when they finally arrived at the Park for lunch. “We’ve already started eating without you!”

“Sorry guys, we were opening my secret admirer present, it came this morning.”

The gang had set out a checked blanket on the ground, a small snack basket (obviously packed by Krista, if the white, flowery design was anything to go by) sat in the middle of the blanket. Connie and Sasha were quick to join Ymir, who lay across the right side of the blanket, starfish style, the pair sitting either side of her body, immediately poking at her and literally pressing all her buttons.  

Jean fist-bumped Reiner with his free hand, his other in Marco’s soft grip, and settled next to he and Bertolt quickly, and pulled Marco down to sit next to him without giving the freckled boy much of a choice in the matter. To Marco’s surprise, Jean didn’t let go of his hand, even after they’d settled down, instead actually gripping his hand tighter. 

Armin held back as he approached the group. 

The tension between he and Eren was obvious. Even those unaware of the altercation between them looked between them with curious eyes. Eren sat to the side of everyone else, Mikasa dutifully right next to him, eyes plastered onto Armin’s shaking figure. 

“Armin,” Marco says with a nervous smile, “come sit with me! you weren’t done telling me about your secret admirer theory.” 

Armin smiled, hurrying to sit next to him, avoiding Eren’s gaze. “Thanks, i was kinda freaking out there…”

“No problem, Min,” Marco smiled, wrapping his free arm around Armin’s shoulders, “Besides, we really  _ should  _ talk about the presents.”

Armin rose an eyebrow and looked between Jean and Marco bu nodded, “Obviously,” Armin grinned, “I do love gossip.”

“Have you guys gotten any further with that?” The question was asked by Bertolt, who was peering around his boyfriend’s body. 

Marco smiled, “We have a list of about 25 possible people.”

“The main suspect is Thomas.” 

“Wagner?” Reiner laughed, “that dude doesnt have one romantic bone in his body! no way could he-”

“WELL I THINK IT’S TIME TO KICK THAT BALL AROUND,” Jean interrupted loud and clear, gripping the football Reiner brought and tugging his friend to a clearing in the grass. “Sasha, Connie, Eren? You in? Ymir? Mikasa? Annie?”

One by one, all those that Jean called up got up to play, leaving Marco, Armin, Bertolt and Krista. “So you think it’s Thomas, Marco?” Krista asked, laying on her front and placing her head in her hands, attentively staring up at the three boys.

“Yeah,” Marco shrugged, “He’s the only one that kinda makes sense.”

“Except Jean….” Armin suggested. The other three looked at him, blankly, “What? Tell me Jean being the secret admirer doesn’t make sense.”

Bertolt shrugged non-commitantly while Krista nodded to herself, “yeah,” she said. “Yeah, you do have a point…”

Marco tried to protest but Krista shushed him, “no no no, seriously Marco, listen! Don’t think Jean’s been acting, like,  _ weird _ since this whole ‘secret admirer’ thing started.” Krista was sat up now, excitement twinkling in her eyes as she grinned at Marco excitedly. “he’s complimenting you more, acting all grumpy and distant when you mention the secret admirer...it really could add up.”

“He is  _ awfully  _ invested in the secret admirer case…” Bertolt looked at Marco apologetically, knowing Marco still didn’t believe the theory.

Marco scoffed and crossed his arms. He refused to entertain the idea that his best friend and love interest for the better part of four years could actually reciprocate his feelings. “Armin’s invested in it too! You saying I should hop on his dick too?”

“First of all, we’re both bottoms, that wont work,” Armin said, rather boldly, “Second, you know very well I’m invested in this for other reasons. Now, get your head out of your ass and admit you’d  _ like  _ if it were Jean.”

Marco muttered to himself, “maybe…”

The other three sent him almost identical smirks. It kinda weirded him out. They looked crazy.

“BUT” he continued, “just because i want him to be the guy, that doesn’t make that the truth.”

Krista smiled apologetically, “we know, Marco, but there’s still a  _ chance _ that he is…”

“No there isn’t,” Marco, shook his head, letting his body fall back onto the blanket in defeat. “he’s straight as a ruler, he’s told us that on many occasions, you know that.” he looked up to the sky, ignoring the pitying glances he knew his friends were shooting him. 

Armin smiled gestured for the two other to leave them alone. He watched them go to join the others playing before laying down next to Marco, watching clouds pass above their heads. “I’m sorry, Marco,” Armin said after a long stretch of silence, “You know I don’t mean to push the whole Jean thing.”

“Yeah, I know Armin, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.” Armin looked over to Marco, giving him a sad smile as their eyes met. “I think, in a way, I’m starting to hope it’s Jean for you so at least one of us gets the guy they want.”

“Armin…”

“It’s okay,” Armin looked back up to the sky with a sigh, the smile gone but the sadness still intact, “I accepted yesterday that Eren will never feel the same...but I still have hope for you. I really don’t think Jean is as straight as he says he is.”

Marco scoffed.

“I’m serious! I think...maybe the reason you can’t see it is because you’ve already given up. You should open your eyes up a bit.”

“That cloud looks like a rabbit,” Marco, pointing to a cloud that in no way resembled a rabbit, changed the subject. 

Armin just sighed, “yeah, I guess it does.” 

\--

After a half hour of the two of them pointing out non-existent shapes in clouds, the football game seemed to have finished, and with the end of it, came a voice Armin simply did not want to hear. 

“Armin. Can we talk?”

Eren stood, hovering over the two boys, staring down at Armin, eyes sparkling with a shimmer of unshed tears. Marco couldn’t understand, if he were honest, really why Eren was close to tears. After all, it was his fault that the pair found themselves in this situation. 

“Back off Eren, you made your choice,” Marco growled, sitting up, and putting his body between the two other boys.

Eren shook his head. “No, you don’t understand Marco, just let me talk to him.” 

Marco went to bite Eren’s head off but was stopped by Jean, who placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let them talk Marco, come on,” Jean tugged on his arm, “they need this.”

“But Jean-”

“Marco, come on,” Jean tugged at his shoulder but Marco turned and fixed his gaze firmly on Armin, silently asking what his current state of comfort was. Armin stared back for a moment, and for the briefest second Marco thought Armin was going to tell him he wanted to leave. 

But he didn’t. 

Slowly, Armin gave Marco the slightest nod and inched his body towards Eren, giving Marco permission to leave. 

Marco sighed quietly to himself before fixing his glare back on Eren, “If he comes to me crying again, I swear.” 

“I know,” Eren said with a sad smile, “I know, I promise I won’t hurt him this time.”

Marco scoffed, but still he backed off, stalking off and pulling Jean along with them. 

Jean had to jog a little bit to keep up with Marco’s long strides, but he quickly caught up and pulling his arm away from the other.

Marco slowed down and let himself frown for a split second before his hand was occupied again, this time with Jean’s own. “He’s gonna be okay, Marco,” Jean squeezed his hand. “Come on you can stay at mine tonight, I’m closer to Armin’s house if anything happens.”

Marco nodded sadly and JEan gave his hand another squeeze before letting them go. 

After a round of goodbye’s to their other, more clueless, friends, Marco found himself curled up on the sofa in Jean’s living room. Hot chocolate in hand, Jean’s head in his lap and a marvel movie on the TV. Marco was comfortable, letting his free hand run through Jean’s hair softly as his best friend scrolled through twitter. 

Marco began to think. He thought of all the complications his life would bring if Jean acted like Eren had if he were to reveal his feelings and how it would break his heart. He thought of his secret admirer, he wondered if there were a chance Armin were right and it was Jean who had been sending him the thoughtful gifts. He thought of Thomas Wagner, and the chance that he was the mastermind behind the gifts. He thought all of this while absentmindedly humming in agreement to everything Jean said. 

A minute later, Marco’s phone went off.

Marco looked at his phone to see a single message.

~

**Minnie:** I got my man. Now we need to get you yours. 

~

Marco smiled down at the message, sending a quick congratulations before tossing his phone unceremoniously onto the couch beside Jean. 

“Who was that?” The other boy asked. 

Marco smiled down at him, “Armin. Looks like he’s finally happy.” 

“I knew Eren could grow some balls,” Jean said. “I’m happy for them both.”

“Yeah,” Marco replied distantly, letting himself imagine a world in which he and Jean were in Amin and Eren’s place and he was finally happy with someone he loved. “Me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> h-hi. 
> 
> I'm so sorry this took so long in getting out. Honestly I have no excuse except for the fact I just felt it too hard to get any f the words I wanted to write down on paper. I hope this was worth the wait :(

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little jeanmarco Christmas Fluff thing I've been working on, hopefully with an update everyday from now until Christmas day! 
> 
> There will, most probably, be no scheduled time for any updates, as I'll be quite busy preparing for my own Christmas, but they will most likely be uploaded at night so I can spend the day preparing it haha. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy it and please leave Kudos/Comments! Thank you for Reading!


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